This carousel of headlights is miserable

Against the morning.

The sun's fury cannot even compare to

The blaring braying of horns

The absolute white lines

Tha bloodshot, rage-filled demeanor of the stoplights.

Bumper to bumper, we are oh-so-close

Never closer-far away

Aluminum alloy our shields from

The us within each other.

Places to go and people to see,

We come to the intersection of goals.

Melding into the steering wheel,

I realize I am not seated within the car

But this soulless mass of destruction

Is seated within me.

It is times like these that

I do not like myself.